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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29009829">And I Cannot Get You Out</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/woakiees/pseuds/woakiees'>woakiees</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Panic, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Sharing a Bed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:27:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,818</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29009829</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/woakiees/pseuds/woakiees</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"He’s watching you closely and he catches the exact moment you register that he’s so far from okay, and the look in your eye makes his heart shatter. You’re terrified."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Poe Dameron/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>And I Cannot Get You Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Poe’s never liked the quiet. It makes him feel trapped, makes him feel claustrophobic and panicked. It makes him feel like a kid again, gives him the same sense of fear he remembers having when he was only five years old, like the monsters out of his worst nightmares will manifest into real life terrors the longer the silence drags on.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He can’t stand it, can never sit in it for long, not without succumbing to the thoughts and memories that he’s always kept buried behind stacks of bricks in his mind, under lock and key where they can’t touch him, can’t hurt him.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>But silence is the only thing he has now, the only way he can get himself to experience <em>something</em> other than the hollow feeling that has made a permanent home in his chest, and he’ll take it. He’ll take the fear over the numbness, he’ll take it over and over again just to feel something real. He welcomes it.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s almost like a distraction. A distraction from the glass shards poking through the muscles of his heart, a distraction from his fragmented ribs wailing with each inhale he takes. A distraction from her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That’s a complete lie, that’s  just what he likes to tell himself. Poe’s never stopped thinking about her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Another lie — the mornings are easy, she hardly crosses his mind at all. He’s stopped waking up and turning his head to the side, looking at the empty spot next to him and wishing it were all just a dream. He’s stopped reaching over to touch the sheets in search of warmth. Now, he just swings his legs over the side of his bed and gets on with his day. He showers, he eats breakfast, he does his duties and never falters, never loses focus.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But she always slips her way back into his mind as the day drags on, and by the time night falls, she’s taken over his every thought, relentless in her assault. He still untucks the blankets on what was once her side of the bed before he goes to sleep.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Poe doesn’t know how long he’s been laying there now, alone in their- <em>his</em>bed, staring at the ceiling and willing sleep to find him and carry him away into a dreamless slumber. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sniffing the air, searching for a hint of her perfume but it’s had to have been hours now. He’s tired, he’s so so tired and he just wants to <em>sleep</em>. He needs to sleep.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He thinks maybe the silence is doing more harm than good, for the first time he thinks he might prefer the numbness over his incessant thoughts about her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He really doesn’t know which is worse.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He doesn’t even know if he’s right about what he’s feeling or isn’t feeling and when, it’s all so jumbled now. He’s a fucking wreck.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And he’s scared it’s going to affect his ability to do his job effectively. He’s scared it’s going to cause him to make a stupid decision that costs him his life, or worse, someone else’s. Poe’s so fucking scared and the silence is weighing heavy, he feels like his chest is getting ready to cave in on itself. He can’t take it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His entire body feels like it’s on fire.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Poe sits up and throws the covers back from his body in a haste, each hand finding the opposite arm as the invisible flames lick at his nerves, and he scratches. He scratches and scratches and scratches and he whimpers when it doesn’t stop, when it doesn’t even help. It <em>hurts</em>. It hurts so much and he just wants her out of his head, out of his veins. As long as she’s there he can’t fucking breathe, he can’t-</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Poe?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He forgot that he wasn’t alone. You’d fallen asleep on the small couch in his quarters and he hadn’t had the heart to wake you and send you to your own room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hears your footsteps growing closer, but he doesn’t look up, he just keeps his eyes tightly shut.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It won’t kriffing stop.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His voice cracks, he hates the way it cracks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’re immediately by his side, hands hesitating before you reach out to touch him, not sure if that’s what he needs or if it would only make him worse. He notices, and he’s thankful for it, because he’s not sure either.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His chest is so tight. He’s spiraling. He’s watching you closely and he catches the exact moment you register that he’s so far from okay, and the look in your eye makes his heart shatter. You’re terrified.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What can I do?” you ask, your own voice wavering, and he <em>hates</em>that it’s his fault. He hates that you’re upset, that he’s the one making you upset. You don’t deserve it, you’re the last person who deserves it and he feels like absolute shit.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shakes his head, still scratching at his skin, blood collecting under his fingernails from one particular drag. That’s what finally makes you reach out and grab his wrists, and it’s as if everything stops. His racing mind, the burning, everything. There’s just <em>silence</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Silence he can <em>stand</em>, that doesn’t feel like the end of the world or a nightmare. Everything’s just so still and calm and he can breathe again, he can think again. His skin tingles where your fingers touch, and it’s the best thing he’s felt in weeks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But his chest is still heaving as he comes back down and you’re still scared, so you don’t divert from the plan that had quickly entered your mind. You pull him up and he doesn’t protest, doesn’t have the energy to, and you lead him towards the ‘fresher. He still doesn’t protest when you pull him in fully clothed, still doesn’t make a noise when the first blast of water is ice cold, but his shoulders do relax after you twist some knobs and the hottest water on base comes spraying down on you both.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’re staring at him, he can feel your eyes on him even as his own are closed. He can still feel the worry radiating off of you and he still hates it. He doesn’t deserve to have someone like you concerned about him and you don’t deserve the kind of panic he can sense.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You don’t deserve it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’s still hung up on a girl who left him completely shattered and you’re in love with him, he’s known that you love him for months now, ever since one drunken night where you both had one too many and you kissed him in an empty hallway, confessing your feelings to him while he could only stand there and stare. He remembers thinking he should’ve been angry, he’d still been with her at the time. He should’ve pushed you away and he should’ve yelled but instead the only thought that ran through his head had been kissing you again, becoming more familiar with territory he so desperately wanted to get to know. He’d wanted to explore every part of you that you’d allow, like he’d wanted to do from the moment you crashed into his life and turned it upside down in the best possible way.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He wanted you. He still wants you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You didn’t seem to remember anything the next morning though, and that was fine. That was fine because he still had her and that was enough but now she’s gone and all he can think about is your damn lips and the way your chest looks through your soaking wet t-shirt and he doesn’t deserve you. Poe doesn’t deserve you. You don’t deserve to have him shatter you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And it’s only been minutes since the thought of her sent him into a blind panic, but now, as he’s standing there under the boiling water in his cramped ‘fresher with your face just inches from his, he realizes that it’s not her stuck in his veins, but you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His nightmares where he’s left completely alone and broken on the floor, it wasn’t her face he saw, but yours. It wasn’t her he screamed for when he woke up at three o’clock in the morning, sweating and shaking. It wasn’t her perfume he loved, but yours. It wasn’t that he was strung out over missing her, it was that he was scared you would come to the same realization that she did and leave him too. You were going to realize that he’s not enough and you were going to leave and then he’d really be all alone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Poe doesn’t want to be alone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And like you can read his mind, you reach up towards his face, hesitating again so he can pull away if he still doesn’t want to be touched but he doesn’t. He lets you cup his cheeks, he leans into it even, and your touch is so gentle, so soft all he can do is let his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your fingers on his skin once more.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He wants to kiss you again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He doesn’t deserve you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry she did this to you,” you mumble, letting your thumb stroke along his cheekbone. “I’m sorry I can’t fix it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But you can, he wants to tell you that if anyone can fix it, it’s you. He wants to tell you it’s not her, he wants to get down on his knees and beg for you not to leave him, to stay with him even though he’s broken and weak and only a shell of his former self. He wants to-</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry I’m not her.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That makes his eyes widen almost comically, and he’s immediately shaking his head, grabbing onto your wrists to keep you there when you try to pull away.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Stop it.” His voice has it’s normal edge to it again. “You’re better than her.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But Poe-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No.” His grip tightens. “Don’t you dare even start comparing yourself to her.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Little did he know that’s all you’d been doing since you met her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re everything she’s not.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Poe-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re the one I want. It’s you, it’s always been you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His words take no time at all to register, he can see the shock written across your face the moment they leave his lips, but he doesn’t stop there.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I cannot get you out of my fucking head and it scares the hell out of me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’re quiet, and the expression on your face shifts into something he can’t quite place, can’t read. You just stand there and stare at him, unblinking, unmoving for what feels like centuries before you finally reach behind you and shut the water off. His heart sinks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You reach for a towel, holding it in front of him, turning your head away. “Take your sweats off, let’s get you back in bed. You need to sleep.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shakes his head again, but your eyes are closed and you miss the hastey movement.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Please don’t make me, kriff, I don’t want to be alone. I can’t-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The panic is immediately present in his tone. It makes you look at him again, and now you’re the one shaking your head. “I’ll stay. I just want you to get some rest Poe.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He takes another moment to watch you, as if he needs to validate your sincerity — not that he doesn’t trust you, Poe has always trusted you with his life. He’s just scared.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay,” he finally mumbles, nodding his head. You nod once as well, and then hold the towel back up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pushes his sweats down his legs then wraps the towel around his hips before doing the same for you, and he’s the one to guide you back into his room. He doesn’t offer you clothes, you don’t ask for them. You both just want to lay down.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The silence is still present, but just like before, Poe can stand it. He can stand it because you’re lying next to him and you’re there and you’re not her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’s staring at you, and he doesn’t care if it’s creepy or weird. He just wants to make sure you’re still there, he’s so scared you’re going to leave him. Everyone leaves, his mother left him when he was only eight years old and no one has stayed since. He needs you to stay.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But you don’t seem to want him anymore. Not like you used to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That doesn’t matter. He’ll take you in any way, any form he can get. That will be enough.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I should’ve told you I love you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His voice is hardly above a whisper but he knows you hear him, he can see the look in your eyes shift again, though he can’t quite place it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“When you kissed me, I should’ve pulled you closer, I should’ve told you I loved you then. I should’ve been with you the whole time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’re quiet for a moment and just like that Poe can read you again. He recognizes shock with maybe just a hint of embarrassment. “You remember that?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nods, reaching for your hand so he can intertwine his fingers with yours — he always holds your hand, it’s not uncommon, isn’t out of the ordinary but it feels different this time. He’s not sure why.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I thought you were the one who didn’t remember anything.” He squeezes your hand once. “I should’ve told you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You squeeze back automatically, so used to the little exchange, but before you can speak again he’s squeezing three times. It makes you freeze.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Three times for three words.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You shake your head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’ve been telling me for a long time Poe.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He knows, he knows exactly what you’re talking about even though it was something he’d never thought about, it was just instinct. It was just something that felt right but now it made sense.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Please don’t leave me.” He’s still whispering. “I want you. Please don’t go.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’re quiet again, and he can tell that you’re battling with your thoughts. He wishes he could actually read your mind, see what’s going on up there in that beautiful brain of yours. He wants to wipe the worry away, he wants to take any fear or doubt and wash it right down the drain where it belongs.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You need to sleep.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That’s not what he wants to hear. Now he’s the one who’s quiet, for several long moments, his stomach flipping with nerves and a kind of anxiety that he wasn’t used to — the bricks he’d put up so long ago were breaking down.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We can talk about this in the morning,” you interrupt, shaking your head from side to side. You move closer to him, and Poe’s thankful for the warmth your body offers, both physically and mentally. “This isn’t a conversation we should have when we’re both tired.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I just-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Poe <em>please</em>.” Your voice cracks like it did earlier in the night, and he’s not sure why. “Can we please just talk about this later?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He looks at you, really takes a moment to just look at you and try to figure you out, but again he can’t decipher the expression on your face, the emotion in your eyes. You look hurt, and Poe just can’t understand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Will you still be here when I wake up?” he finally asks, trying to push down the lump in his throat. He wouldn’t cry in front of you, not now. He doesn’t want to upset you any further.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You don’t hesitate to answer him, and that’s another thing he’s thankful for.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m not going anywhere Dameron.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He believes you, Maker he believes you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Poe reaches out and lets his fingers find your hip, and he pulls you even closer, wanting more of your warmth that felt so much like home to him, something he hadn’t realized before, when she was still clouding his vision and taking him over.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And that’s what scares you — the sudden realization, how quickly the switch seemed to flip in his mind. How eager and ready he was for you when she’d been all he could think about. It scares the hell out of you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You need him to wait, you need him to make sure that you’re really what he wants, because there’s no way you could take it if he dangles his love in front of you only to revoke it when he isn’t tired or panicked, when he’s not hurting. You need him to be sure.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Poe’s never been more sure of anything when he wakes up the next morning and you’re still right there, pressed into his side just like you’d promised. He’s never been more sure of anything when he inhales deeply and catches your familiar perfume.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’s never been more sure of anything when he kisses you, and the feeling of his lips on yours is the only reassurance you need.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>he just hurts so pretty hhhhh. remember to leave a comment or a kudos if you enjoyed&lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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